by Amelia Grey
That sort of pastime could be held at a club or the drivers of the coaches could take turns exercising the horses around the block. That was the polite, neighborly thing to do.
Flinging wide the tall iron gate that led up to his home, Adeline splattered through the puddles, not caring that the gate slammed shut behind her. After stepping onto the entranceway, she clanked the door knocker three times. Moments later a tall stout-looking butler opened the door.
Before she could think better of it, she swished past him without a word and headed down the corridor dripping water as she went. She heard the man calling behind her to wait. To stop.
Adeline did neither.
She followed the sound of male talking and laughter. Her feet squished in her shoes with every purposeful step she took. Entering the lion’s den and facing his pride of debauched peers was easier than she thought it would be—until she rounded the corner of the doorway and stepped into the drawing room.
Pausing, she took it all in.
There were two white linen-draped tables with four men at each, holding cards in their hands, drinks sitting by their lace-covered wrists. A fire blazed soothing warmth into the room. From somewhere in the distance, she caught the inviting scent of bread baking in an oven. The entitled gentlemen fell silent. All of them were staring at her. Some with astonished expressions and others clearly annoyed that anyone, especially a woman, would be so bold as to charge in the earl’s home and disrupt their gaming.
And then she spotted Lyon. Their gazes met across the room. Adeline felt as if her stomach rolled over and her chest swelled. His silvery gray eyes were curious and questioning her.
Questioning?
She had no doubt she looked like a kitten that had been fished out of the Thames, but that was of no consequence. Society dictated one rule she wouldn’t ignore. Delicately grabbing the sides of her wet, clinging dress, she curtsied. “My lord, and gentlemen.”
The earl tossed his cards on top of the table, rose, and bowed. “Countess Wake,” he said, taking time to assess her from head to toe.
At the sound of her title every chair scraped across the fine wood floor. The men laid their cards on the tables, too, rose, and bowed.
The earl stood tall, handsome and powerful-looking among all the men. Without a doubt, without wanting it to happen, she was reminded how immensely attracted she was to him. That angered her even more. Suddenly she felt every frigid bead of drizzle running down her body, every strand of rain-soaked hair curling around her face. She shivered all the way down to her toes.
“Has something happened?” he asked, his expression suddenly changing to concern.
Stubbornly ignoring the worry that appeared in his features, Adeline gathered her courage and ire around her as if they were her soggy cape. Taking further steps into the room, she gripped her wringing wet reticule tightly and plopped it down on the gaming table beside the earl’s cards and then quickly wrenched off her ruined gloves and threw them beside it.
“How dare you gentlemen sit here snug, warm, and may I say dry, sipping your fine cognac, without a care in the world while your coaches clog the street causing others to slog through a slashing storm to reach the same amenities awaiting them in their homes.” Adeline’s gaze swept around the room meeting every face as she spoke. When she settled her attention on Lyon again, she added, “The street in front of my house is not your private parking area.”
Some of the gentlemen continued to be astonished, staring at her with eyes wide and mouths open. One gentleman abruptly cleared his throat and looked away. A couple of them coughed inconspicuously, while still another peered at her over his spectacles with great interest.
She felt no intimidation from any of them.
“I will thank you gentlemen to be more considerate in the future of blocking access to my home with your carriages and horses while you visit with the earl.”
From seemingly out of nowhere the butler appeared beside her with an umbrella in his hands and said, “Perhaps, my lord, since you have guests, I could see that the lady reaches her home.”
Before anyone could speak, and with hot eyes, Adeline shot another blistering look toward Lyon and then took the umbrella from the butler’s hand. “Thank you,” she said, “but that’s not necessary. Since I managed to find my way this far in a slashing rainstorm, I think I can get along home just fine.”
Confident in her inner strength, Adeline snatched her knitted purse off the table and without further ado whirled and strode out of the room like a queen, reaching the vestibule the same time as the butler. She paused and opened the umbrella while he opened the door.
As determined as she entered, she walked back into the driving rain.
Chapter 11
For the first time in his life Lyon was aroused in mind as well as body.
Every man in the room had remained silent and in awe of the audacious, hot-blooded lady who’d just stood before them, verbally dressing them down to their toes. Not a one of them moved. All continued to stare at the doorway Lady Wake had disappeared through. Only the crackle of the fire was heard.
Lyon was as mesmerized as the rest. Where the devil did she get the courage to be so bold as to take on a roomful of gentlemen?
The countess was mightily impressive. Her eyes had blazed with the right amount of justifiable anger and indignation. Her softly rounded shoulders had been thrown back defiantly. Her breasts heaved as if she’d been running for miles, and the skirt of her drenched silky dress had clung to her shapely legs with indecent splendor. Without question, Lyon knew every man in the room would be dreaming about her all night. The image of her admonishing not only him, but a duke, a viscount, and several other well-respected gentlemen in London Society would be burned into Lyon’s memory forever.
And theirs, too, he had no doubt.
He was also reminded this wasn’t the first time he’d been so stunned by her provoking boldness that he wanted to make her his. From their first encounter he’d known she was a lady with strength and spirit who wouldn’t fold up at the first sign of adversity. He’d sensed her deep feelings, innate passion, and honorable intentions. Opening the boarding school had proved she had a kind, generous heart. A woman most men would want.
Now, his gaming club knew it, too.
Everyone heard the front door shut. Still no one moved until, at last, the Duke of Middlecastle said, “My God, what a lady! A fiery one to be sure,” before plunking back down at the table with a flabbergasted expression still on his face.
“That she is,” Broward agreed, pulling on the layers of lace at his cuffs. “The Dowager Countess Wake. Hmm. I never knew she was so comely or so vigorous. I’d always heard she was of the delicate sort and never left her house.”
“Me too,” Charleston added. “But, she’s no bird with a broken wing, that’s for sure.”
Mumblings of agreement sounded around the room as heads began to nod in agreement.
“If I weren’t already married,” Pritchard said, grunting as he lowered into his chair, “I’d have to have her myself.”
“When did you ever let being married stop you?” Charleston grumbled. “Don’t act as if we don’t know of your numerous dalliances.”
“Now, see here,” Pritchard argued defensively. “You’d be after her yourself if you weren’t too old to catch her attention.”
“Who are you to call one old, my dear man?”
Broward chuckled. “Neither one of you would have a chance if I decide I want her.”
Lyon’s breath was heavy with anger. Each man was issuing his threat to possess Lady Wake as if she’d have no say in the matter at all. Too often widows were easy marks for men and their baser needs. Hostile vibrations thrummed in his chest. Lyon’s natural, primal need to defend her and claim her for his own took over and left little room for civility for the three men verbally going at one another over who could best win the attention if not the affection of such a prize as the countess.
“Shut your mouths
,” Lyon snarled, realizing the words could very well start a predatory confrontation in his own home.
The verbal conflict between the men ceased immediately and they all stared at him.
But Lyon wasn’t through. It was a rash, harsh but necessary statement of warning to the men fighting over her. There would be no backing down from this. He would defend her honor and not permit such gutter talk whether or not she’d want it or approve. He waited a few moments to see if anyone was going to test his order and challenge him. No one said a word.
“You are talking about a lady—a countess. You’re all married and should respect your wives and stay silent about your lusts for other women.”
The tension and glowering between the men lingered until Pritchard said, “Very well.”
“Is anyone courting her presently?” Lord Thurston asked to no one specifically after several seconds of silence. He looked around the room. No one answered so he scooted his chair back up to the table, seeming to take no offense at Lyon’s reprimand to the three men challenging one another’s masculinity.
Lyon looked over at the viscount and thought, “She’s taken.”
If any of the men present had a chance of catching Lady Wake’s eye it would be Thurston, and he was eligible if it was marriage he had on his mind. Lyon doubted that. Right now none of them had the right to tell any of the others hands off—including Lyon. Though he was on the verge of doing it anyway.
It wouldn’t be the first time he’d upset the countess.
By the look on the viscount’s face, and his low derisive laugh as he picked up his cards and shuffled them in his hands, Lyon knew the man didn’t give a damn what any of them said.
Lord Thurston intended to call on Lady Wake.
Fine. Lyon enjoyed a good fight.
If any of them thought the reason he’d been so aggressive was that he wanted her for himself, none had the courage to call him on it.
Which was best.
He sat down and picked up his drink with one hand and his cards with the other. “There’ll be no further talk of Lady Wake,” he said to everyone in the group, maintaining his ruthless tone. He might not have claimed her for his own, but he’d left them no doubt he would not hear another suggestive word about her. “Next week find another place to have your carriage wait. Let’s get back to the game.”
A muttering of grumblings, grunts, and scrapes of wood against wood rumbled around the tables as the rest of the men seated themselves and prepared to resume their games where they left off. No doubt there would be much talk of this incident in the homes and clubs tomorrow. Lyon didn’t care. If they didn’t like the measure he took to halt their challenges or if they thought he was kowtowing to the countess about their coaches or anything else, they were free to confront him—and no one did. Lyon would have defended any lady against such talk.
He looked down at his cards and caught sight of a pair of soggy kid gloves lying beside his drink. Her reticule was gone. Had she left them there for a reason?
As a challenge?
An invitation?
He didn’t know but he had a feeling she hadn’t simply forgotten them when she picked up her purse. His mind and his heart teased him for a moment, making him think that she was the lady he’d been waiting for and there was no way in hell he was going to let anyone take her from him.
Lyon had an edge. Unlike the other gents in the room, he already had her attention—for the good or bad was questionable.
Returning the gloves to her might prove to be a good start to finding out what she had on her mind when she left them behind and put him on the path of garnering more than just her attention.
Chapter 12
The storm had left with the descending darkness, taking the greater portion of Adeline’s outrage with it. She was now cozy, dry, and sitting snugly in front of her own fireplace dressed in her black velvet robe, smelling the pleasing aroma of cooked fruits that still wafted from the kitchen, though dinner had long past.
Crashing a gentleman’s card game wasn’t the way Adeline expected to make her debut back into Society, but it was too late to regret her hasty decision to charge in on the earl without being announced as he’d done to her not so long ago. Taking peers to task wasn’t the proper or advisable thing to do, yet she was unwavering that it was deserved. There could be some possible consequences in Society. If the older ladies in the ton decided to shun her for the scandalous behavior, everyone else would, too. That was simply the way of it. There was also her brother-in-law, the Earl of Wake, to consider. He was still in control of a good portion of the wealth from her marriage, but he’d never denied her use of it in any way she wished. She hoped he wouldn’t decide to now for her breach in proper manners.
Adeline sighed. Lyon had been nothing but trouble for her since he’d returned to his house. They’d managed to have a civil, if not friendly, exchange the day he’d brought over the tarts from Mrs. Feversham. Her exploit this afternoon had probably put an end to any friendly relationship they could have had going forward. That bothered her more than she expected. That Lyon had stood quietly and let her take him to task surprised her, too. She had to admire him for that. Gentlemen did not like to be taken to task by a lady—especially in front of other gentlemen.
Adeline rubbed the back of her neck, trying to ease the tension that had settled between her shoulders. She might as well close the book she held in her lap. There was no use in pretending to read. She couldn’t concentrate on the ghost story, and they were her favorites to read. A young maiden walking past gravestones in the middle of the night to get help for her ailing father just couldn’t hold Adeline’s attention tonight.
Thinking about the earl was the only thing on her mind. Whether she was looking at him or thinking about him, he haunted her with deep longing feelings she would like to explore but had little knowledge of how to go about letting him know.
It was maddening.
“Sorry to interrupt you, my lady.”
Adeline turned toward the doorway. “You know it’s not a problem, Mrs. Lawton. I am doing nothing other than wondering why I had that second slice of sweet cake after I ate the delicious pheasant soup you made for me tonight. It was very comforting and just what I needed after such a wet afternoon.”
The petite woman smiled appreciatively. “Thank you, my lady. It was my pleasure. I didn’t know if you wanted to receive anyone this late, but Mrs. Tallon is here and asking to speak with you.”
“Yes, of course.” Adeline laid the book aside and rose. “I’ll always speak to her no matter the hour. Ask her to come in and then you can retire for the evening. I’ll turn out the lamps when I’m ready to go up.”
Mrs. Lawton nodded and said, “Yes, my lady.”
Adeline made sure the lapels of her robe were secured and then bushed her hair away from her shoulders to her back. There was no time to make it more presentable. She’d left it down so it would dry before weaving it into her nighttime braid.
Mrs. Tallon walked in a moment or two later and stopped just inside the entrance. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Lady Wake. I didn’t realize you were ready to retire for the evening. I can come back tomorrow.”
“Nonsense. You’re here now. You know I’ve encouraged you to come to me if you thought I might be of assistance. What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to make you aware of something disturbing that’s been happening.” She hesitated.
A prickle of alarm came over Adeline as she walked around the chair she’d been sitting in and stood before Mrs. Tallon. “Has the earl been back over again to complain about the girls’ giggles?”
“Oh, no, no, my lady.” Mrs. Tallon dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. “We’ve not seen or heard from him since that morn.”
“Good,” she said, her feelings of disquiet easing a little. “I’m glad. Please, feel free to speak your concerns.”
“I wanted to make you aware that one of the girls, Miss Fanny Watson, continues to disobey me and
wanders away from the class and into other rooms. She’s gone outside the school building twice without permission.”
Adeline was more than a little surprised to hear that. She’d told Fanny that leaving the building without someone knowing was unacceptable and she must not do it again. “Did she wander away from the school grounds?”
“No. Both times I found her sitting on the front steps. But after the first time I found her doing so, I told her not to do it again. She disobeyed me and did it anyway. She’s very bright and articulate. She’s not disruptive in any way, but she’s—sly.”
Adeline blinked. That seemed a callous word for a ten-year-old, but she decided not to voice her opinion on that.
“Has she been mean toward any of the other girls? Has she pinched anyone or pulled their hair?”
“No. Most of the time her hands are behind her back.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“She’s not disrespectful at all. She finishes her work quickly and accurately. Most of the other girls need more help and attention than Fanny does. Some aren’t adjusting as well as others, which we talked about and expected. It’s natural, but when we get busy calming them, we’ll suddenly realize Fanny is gone.”
“Gone?”
“From the classroom. Sometimes she’s simply looking at the threads and fabrics in the workroom. She needs to stay where all the other girls are, no matter that she’s finished and they are not. I appreciate that you wanted me to be kind to them because of the unfortunate circumstances of their past, but I feel there must be a harsher punishment for Fanny because she continues to disobey me after verbal reprimands she clearly understands.”
After listening quietly to the woman, Adeline said, “Has she said why she doesn’t do as you asked?”
“Most of the time she only shrugs. She’s quiet. Even in the classroom she hardly speaks to anyone except Mathilda. Quite frankly, it’s much easier to deal with a child who talks too much because then, at least, you know what they’re thinking.”